


Tease

by Satine86



Series: Lace Smut [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, No Plot/Plotless, Shameless Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was gone for over a month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> sequel/follow-up to "Fair." Last time the writing prompt was _lace_. This time it was _teeth_.

He was gone for over a month.

What had been intended as a short trip to the Western Approach, had turned into an extended expedition once they learned of Darkspawn activity. His letters had been amusing to say the least, but eventually her patience grew thin.

She missed the blasted dwarf.

So when it finally came time for the Inquisitor's party to return to Skyhold, Cassandra decided to welcome him back _properly_.

She hid when he and the others rode through the gates, hid as he dropped off his things in his room – though it was now more _their_ room, than anything. She hid until he left for the baths, likely grumbling and swearing under his breath about the lack of her presence.

Then she made her move....

* * *

Creeping into the room, she readies herself quickly for Varric's return. She positions herself in the middle of the room, like she had a few months ago, only this time she is clad in the now infamous red lace set.

She waits only a short time before Varric enters slowly, his hair unbound and still damp from the baths, his chest bared. He stops once he notices her and tilts his head, eyes drifting shut as his breath hisses out through his nose.

“If the last time was unfair, this is just cruel,” he says.

“Why? I thought you would like it?” Cassandra turns slowly, drawing upon every etiquette lesson she was ever taught as a girl. “It is Highover red, I believe that is the one you favor?”

Varric laughs and shakes his head, walking toward her. “You know, I had a plan. It was a really good one, too. I had lots of time to ponder it while we were trekking through the Maker forsaken Western Approach.”

“Oh? What was your plan?”

“It was going to be nice. Very pleasurable, for both of us.” He stops in front her, face surprisingly bland. “You see after weeks of listening to Tiny and Hero talking about swords and darkspawn and dragons and whatever the fuck else, I was going to come back here and fully reacquaint myself with every inch of you.”

As he speaks, he starts prowling around her, and Cassandra draws herself up, suddenly she feels a bit like prey. It is oddly thrilling. Varric reaches out and trails a finger across her stomach, over her side.

“But see,” he says slowly, “you've ruined it now. All that planning for naught.” He stops behind her, runs his finger up her spine and presses a kiss to her shoulder blade. Cassandra can't stop a shiver from running down her spin.

“How have I ruined it?”

“You're wearing _that_. Do you remember what I said last time?” he asks, lips brushing her skin.

“You said you would tear it off. But that was the purple one.”

“The intent still remains. Besides,” he says and slips his hand around her side, palm laying flat on her stomach,and pulls her back against him. “I gave my word, and I am nothing if not a man of my word. You should know that, Seeker.”

“Is that so?” She glances at him over her shoulder. “Well, you better get on with it then.”

“Gladly,” he whispers and kisses her shoulder blade again. He works his way across her back to the other side. His hand is still splayed open on her stomach, holding her tight, his other hand raking up her thigh and over her hip.

He kisses down her spine and Cassandra shivers again, goosebumps rising on her skin, and a delightful warmth pools between her legs. Varric nips at her skin before taking one of the straps between his teeth and yanking until it gives a resounding _SNAP!_

She laughs when he pulls it free and tosses it aside.

“Much better. Now we can get to the fun part,” he says and returns to biting and sucking her skin. His hand drifts down from her hip to cup her sex. She rocks against him despite herself.

“The fun part?” she asks.

“Yes, payback for last time.” He draws his finger along her seam, feather light over the lace fabric. It is completely unsatisfying, she tries rock into him but the hand on her stomach hinders her movements.

“What kind of payback.” She isn't worried, it's honestly rather arousing, but there is an undercurrent, something that almost makes her feel vulnerable. She decides she likes it.

Varric withdraws his hand, and presses himself a little closer. Close enough that when he speaks, his voice rumbles against her back and her breath hitches. “I'm going to make you beg, Cassandra.”

“I am Seeker Pentaghast. I do not beg,” she says. She means it as a statement, but there is a note in her voice that makes it into a challenge. She can hear it. And she is certain Varric can hear it too.

He lets go of her and moves to stand in front her, wearing a thoughtful expression. His eyes drift over her body before meeting her gaze, his obnoxiously smug smile slowly blooming on his obnoxiously handsome face. She can't stop the tremor of anticipation that courses through her.

“Is that so?” He nods to himself, as if making up his mind. Then, without warning, and far too quick for her to even process what is happening, he reaches out and picks her up, swinging her into a bridal hold.

“Varric, put me down this instant!”

“If you insist.” He grins and tosses her into the bed. Cassandra is mortified when she lets out a shriek, as if she were a much younger woman. She supposes she certainly feels like a young maid, giddy and ridiculous. Love is awful, she thinks, and yet entirely wonderful.

“What are you going to do?” she asks when he remains standing at the foot of the bed.

The grin he gives her is utterly devious and makes her stomach flutter. “Oh, Cassandra,” he drawls, voice low, “I'm going to do everything.”

She bits her lip, a shudder of want running down her spine and an electric jolt hitting her core. She presses her thighs together, and she is quite certain her arousal is plain as day judging by the way his eyes darken.

“You like that,” he says.

She doesn't want to give up too much so she smiles at him, “I like you.” She holds out her arms, beckoning for him to lay with her. He climbs onto the bed and settles himself next to her, braces a forearm by her head, one leg going between hers.

His free hand ghosts over her skin, tracing her collarbone, up her neck and back down again. “I missed you,” he whispers, and dips his head to kiss along her shoulder.

“Not as much as I missed you.”

Varric laughs, and the sound resonates deep in his chest and into hers. “Always a competition with you.” He lays a gentle kiss to her neck, her jaw, and the corner of her mouth. His hand drifts from her shoulder to her breast, finger circling her nipple.

He lavishes attention on her neck, sucking and biting, his tongue running along her pulse point. She tilts her head, exposing her neck and brings up a hand to tangle in his hair. Everything about the moment is languid and slow and wonderful.

Eventually she finds herself mindlessly grinding against his knee between her legs, the slow build of heat in her core asking for release. Varric shifts, pulls his knee away, and places his palm against her.

“Mm,” she breathes and turns her face toward his, kissing him. He returns it, long and slow. When he breaks the kiss, he shuffles down her body, laying kisses on her chest and the dip between her breasts.

He's gentle, achingly so, as he trails more kisses over her breasts but Cassandra desperately wants more. She arches against him, hips shifting to press herself closer to his hand. He laughs, breath tickling her stomach.

“No need to rush, we have plenty of time.”

“Varric.” She does not whine, she commands. He looks up at her and grins.

“Remember, I had a plan,” he rumbles. “I am going to make you beg.” He punctuates each word with a soft press of his lips to her stomach, trailing downward. Cassandra's breath hitches, and she swallows thickly.

She watches transfixed as he places a kiss between her legs, can feel his breath through the thin layer of lace and suddenly wishes it wasn't there at all. Varric pulls back slightly, leans his cheek against her thigh, watching her.

“You are stunning, you realize that?” he asks, and Cassandra huffs out a breath.

“I'm not,” she replies.

“Mm,” he hums and shifts further down the bed, settles himself. “You're wrong, but everyone is sometimes.” 

She scoffs, uses her knee to playfully smack his cheek. But still she blushes, and he grins. A small win in this strange war of theirs. 

Varric tilts his head, looking at her laid before him. “I thought about you, more than I should probably admit. I thought about how you felt, how you tasted. I thought of all the ways to make you scream my name.” 

He grips the bands holding the lace swatches together, and Cassandra is more than happy to help him slip the lace off. She tilts her hips up, and he swiftly yanks it down. He pulls the lace down her legs, following the path with his lips and tongue and teeth, nipping and licking. He untangles her feet from the bits of lace, and once the garment is free he flings it across the room. 

It nearly lands in the hearth.

“Varric!” she chastises. 

“I don’t like lace.”

Cassandra laughs at that, but it quickly changes to a gasp when Varric hooks his arms under her legs, yanking her forward. She spreads her legs as he settles himself between them. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles, voice strained. 

She smirks, “I thought about you all day.” 

“Did you touch yourself, like last time?” He looks up at her, it’s a challenge. Unfortunately she can’t lie. 

“No. I was waiting for you.” 

He grins, pleased with his victory. Ducking his head, he lays another kiss against her core. This time there is nothing between them and Cassandra bites her lip to keep from moaning. Varric waits a moment, then his tongue darts out, tasting her. 

Cassandra rocks against him, unable to deny the throb of desire. She wants more, needs more. Though she will not let him win this game, not yet. So she swallows down a groan, reaches forward to tangle her fingers in his hair. 

Varric is slow, thorough as he teases and tastes her, his tongue feather light against her. Cassandra shifts her legs, drapes them over his shoulders. She digs her heels into his back, and tries to shift closer to his mouth.

He pulls back, looks at her for a moment. His eyes are dark, and that makes her squirm with desire. He dips his head again, drags his teeth against her inner thigh and she gasps. His kisses along her leg, up to her cunt and this time he finds her clit, his tongue circling it slowly. 

Her hips buck against her will, and she can _feel_ him grin against her. His traces her again, slower this time, and her breath hitches, going a bit ragged. She knows he’s watching her, the raise and fall of her chest, the way she bites her lip. 

Cassandra tries to move against him, urge him along, but he lifts a hand to press on her pelvis, keeping her in place. Her gaze snaps down to his, and he arches a brow at her. Clearly amused. She frowns at him. 

He laughs. 

She can’t help the moan that escapes, deep and throaty, hips jerking. There is no denying her arousal, she knows. Varric laves at her, drinks her in and _hums_. 

She whimpers.

“Do you know how good you taste?” he asks and looks up at her, licks his lips. “Do you know how good you feel?” He moves his hand down and slides a finger inside her, crooks it in a way that tears a strangled groan from her throat. 

He shifts, moves from between her legs, and kisses a path over her hip and stomach, up to her breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against it as his thumb finds her clit. Cassandra bucks against his hand, searching for release and trying desperately not to make another sound. 

She is losing. 

“Varric,” she moans, rocking her hips a little faster. 

That stops him, and he looks up at her with a smile. “What?” 

“You know what,” she growls. 

“No, I don’t think I do. Please, enlighten me.” His smile widens as he withdraws his hand, and it takes all her willpower not to pout. “What do you want, Cassandra?” 

“I want you,” she says slowly and sits up, running a hand along his erection straining his trousers. He groans at the contact, and she kisses him hard, nipping at his lower lip. “To get on with it.”

Varric lets out a breath, pushes her back down to the bed and hovers over her. His knee is between her legs again, his length pressing against her thigh. Even though the leather of his trousers she can feel his heat. Her hips jerk and her cunt throbs. If she can only....

“You know,” he says lightly, pauses to suck her collarbone hard enough to leave a mark. “That sounded dangerously close to begging.”

“No, I was ordering. I wish you to fuck me.” She punctuates this statement by rubbing against the knee still pressed against her. 

“Oh, I'm sure you do.” He pulls his leg back, and she is nearly furious. This is worse than before, she aches with her arousal, her scent surrounding them, a wet spot on the blankets. She needs him, she needs release... but she did not wish to lose their game.

He slides down her body again, kissing a path over her chest, sucking and licking and nipping at her breasts, her stomach. And it's all too much, she can't do this again.

“Varric,” she whines. 

He doesn’t stop, kisses down to her cunt. His tongue tests her, and she shudders, then he buries his face against her, and _fucks_ her with his mouth. Lapping and licking and sucking, and then his finger finds her center again, crooking forward and Cassandra nearly sobs. 

She writhes against him, desperately wanting more as she trembles and shakes with each flick of his tongue. Her hands fly to his hair, digging in and holding tight. The only sounds in the room are her gasping breaths and the wet lapping as he brings her closer and closer to the edge. 

Cassandra can feel the heat building, her knees tighten around his ears, squeezing and holding him in place. She shuts her eyes, heart racing. She makes the most inarticulate, pathetic noise and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care anymore.

His name tumbles from her lips, she whimpers and writhes and begs for him. “Please don’t stop. Please, Varric. Please I need you.” 

A second finger joins the first, and he fucks her faster as he sucks her clit, rolling his tongue over it. She can barely breath, hips bucking erratically, her heart pounding so hard she’s afraid it might beat out of her chest. 

Then she comes with a choked sob, tensing and trembling. Varric doesn’t stop, and she rides out her climax, spasming against him and biting her lip so hard she might draw blood. Her head is light as she comes down, and Varric pulls back. 

She can barely open her eyes but manages to blink them open slowly, watches as he wipes his chin, licks his fingers. He is smugness defined. Still, she can’t bring herself to care. 

He shimmies up the bed, stretches out next to her. “Told you I would make you beg.” 

Against her better judgment, she laughs. A weak giggle as she swats at him. Cassandra rolls onto her side, presses herself against him. She kisses him slowly, tastes herself on his lips. Even now in a blissful daze she wants him, wants his skin against hers, wants him inside her. 

Cassandra dips her hand between them, running her fingers against the outline of his erection, still straining against his trousers. Then her want overrides her lethargia, her fingers make quick of the laces of his trousers. She snakes her hand down his front, grasps him, never once breaking their kiss. 

He moans, bucks against her hand. She smiles against his lips. 

There’s a quick scramble as Varric tries to rid himself of the garment. Once his trousers are kicked off, flying to the floor, Cassandra shoves him back against the bed. She straddles him and sinks onto his cock, pulling a groan from his throat.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, hands gripping her hips. 

“Tell me how good I feel, Varric.” She braces her hands on his chest, rocks her hips gently. “Tell me how good I am, because you are so, so good.” 

“Shit, Cassandra you feel fucking amazing.” His hands roam up and down her sides, over her hips, hot and rough. “You are fucking amazing.”

She lifts herself up, pressing on his chest, then slams her hips against his. His eyes are shut, a strangled noise sounding in the back of his throat. 

“Look at me, Varric.” 

He obeys, looks up at her with so much heat she can feel it go straight to her core. She rocks against him. 

“Did you miss me?” 

“Every minute.” 

“Tell me how much you missed me,” she says, setting a slow pace riding his cock. “Tell about when you thought of me.”

“I’d be huddled in a tent with Hero and - ah, _fuck_!” He gasps, grips her hips a little tighter when she slams against him again. “All I could think about was you.”

“Did you touch yourself, thinking of me? I did. I thought of your hands on me, of your cock inside of me, and I would touch myself until I cried your name.” 

“Cassandra,” he whimpers her name like a prayer. His fingers are almost painful on hips, and she’s sure she’ll have bruises tomorrow, but she doesn’t care. She rides him harder, tits bouncing. The only sounds in the room are their ragged, breathy moans and the utterly obscene sound of their bodies together. 

They move against each other, frantically chasing their release. Varric is close, she can tell by the way the chords in his neck tighten. He reaches between them, thumb rubbing quick circles around her clit. 

There’s no rhythm anymore as they fuck, meeting each other thrust for thrust. Cassandra is the first to topple over the edge, a high keening wail escaping from her lips. Her hips jerk as she tightens around Varric. He comes with a deep, guttural sound that sends a shiver of pleasure down her spine, and he shudders beneath her. 

Cassandra slides off him, falling bonelessly to the mattress. Varric rolls onto his side, reaches out to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She lays her hand on his cheek. 

“I am glad you are back.” 

He chuckles, his thumb tracing circles on her back. He leans forward and kisses her gently. “Yeah,” he says against her mouth, “it’s good to be home.” 

She pulls back to look at him fully. “Is it home?” 

“It is with you.” Varric smiles and kisses her again.


End file.
